


John's Suffocation

by Sylvia_Fig



Series: Love and Haunting [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Ghosts, M/M, Other, POV John Watson, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvia_Fig/pseuds/Sylvia_Fig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I'd learned how to be alone. Before him. I'd gotten pretty good at it. Now I can't stand to see myself without him, even if it's only in a mirror. Someone like him shouldn’t ever cease to be. His incredible mind – his heart – how could it all just stop?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <em>It never occurred to me that Sherlock Holmes was human enough to die.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Suffocation

**Author's Note:**

> _Love and Haunting_ told from John's point of view.
> 
> Again, for best results listen to "Svefn-G-Englar" (Sleepin-g-angel) by Sigur Ros as you read (a translation of lyrics into English is at the end of the fic). Originally posted as a second chapter to _Love and Haunting_ , but I think it works better as its own thing.

The steam is suffocating me. That’s good. I breathe in and I breathe water, the perfect representation of my drowning. My lungs pulse. I turn the shower off. Push the curtain back. Let the water run into my eyes so I won’t turn my head and see my reflection.

I'd learned how to be alone. Before  _him_. I'd gotten pretty good at it. Now I can't stand to see myself without him, even if it's only in a mirror.

Someone like him shouldn’t ever cease to be. His incredible mind – his heart – how could it all just stop?

It never occurred to me that Sherlock Holmes was human enough to die.

I pick some clothes up off the floor and go out. I don’t know the bar, but more importantly, it doesn’t know me. I am a stranger to these people. A stranger to  _her_. She tells me her name and I forget it. Her hair is almost as short as his, except a bit lighter. Her eyes are the wrong shade of blue. She’s too tan. Too short.

But for tonight, she will be perfect.

We talk about things that don’t matter. I order another drink. I used to be so good at this. But it takes a lot of energy to keep track of conversation, and half my mind is always seeing him. Carving his face deeper into my memory, clinging to every detail.

Sherlock.

I would give anything to touch you again. To see you one more time and tell you everything.

The woman stops talking. I look up. For a second my mental image of him is superimposed over her – she’s looking at me the way he would when I did something clever. A little bit of wonder. Maybe even love.

I never let myself think that before. But that’s what it must have been. Love. Right? I wish I could ask him.

“Wanna get out of here?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says. “My place, or yours?”

“Yours.”

She cringes a little. “Sorry, I only just remembered. My flatmate’s parents are in town. Can it be yours?”

I jingle my keys in my pocket and clench them so the teeth dig into my fingers. No, it can’t be mine. Because it’s not  _my_ place; it never belonged to me. It was ours. Sherlock’s and mine.

“Alright,” I say, hating myself.

The cab ride is quick, thank god. I give the cabbie a wad of bills and for the first time in two months, a person other than him follows me up the steps to 221B. I smile my best smile at her, wishing I could be nicer to her. She stares at me, wordless. She’s strange and quiet and I like that.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask, walking into the kitchen and opening a cupboard.

She responds by resting her hands on my back. I grip the glass so tightly I think it might shatter in my hand.

It’s too soon. I’m not drunk enough; it was a mistake to bring her here. God forgive me, Sherlock — I shouldn’t have brought her here.

She squeezes my shoulders. Breathes against my neck. A network of hairline fractures spread beneath my skin, reaching deep inside of me. I close my eyes and pretend the breath is his. Try to ignore the voice telling me that he will never breathe again.

I turn and take her into my arms and bury that voice in her hair. I press my lips against hers, stopping Sherlock’s name with her mouth. I tell myself it’s okay. We were drinking alone in a bar, and now we’re here together, hearts beating beside each other, and that’s much better, isn’t it? Isn’t anything better than being alone?

We shed our clothes like skins. I pull her into my bedroom, onto the bed that holds me when I dream of him.

She straddles me. I’m glad. Now I can close my eyes and drift.

But then she speaks.

“John,” she says.

“Hmm?”

“Open your eyes.”

I do. It’s too dark to see her face but I can see her crown of short, dark hair and it makes my breath stop in my throat. I close my eyes again as she lowers herself onto me. All thought spirals away.

“ _John_.” Her voice again, stern this time. “Keep your eyes fixed on me.”

I gasp, sit up, hold her by the shoulders. Those words. “Why did you say that?”

She says, “Because I want you to see me.”

I understand. I understand.

We move together. I lose myself in her. My body overrides my heart and mind and I’m just a collection of nerve endings, and all that matters is sex and friction. In these moments, the sweetest amnesia is gifted to me.

The woman gasps. I think for a second she’s about to come, but her exhale is too ragged. I focus on her. Tears are dripping from her chin onto my stomach. I gather her into my arms, hoping I didn’t hurt her somehow.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“John, John, John…”

“Hey. Hey, talk to me.”

“John, John, John…”

I lie back and pull her down beside me. Cushion her head on a pillow.

“My last magic trick is almost over,” she says.

His words. Those are  _his words._

I take her face into my hands. Her eyes – the wrong shade of blue, and she’s crying, but…

“Goodbye, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Svefn-G-Englar" (Sleepin-g-angel) by Sigur Ros
> 
> _I’m here again_
> 
> _Inside you_
> 
> _It’s so good staying here_
> 
> _But I can't stay long_
> 
> _I float in underwater hibernation_
> 
> _(in a hotel)_
> 
> _Connected to the electricity board_
> 
> _(and drinking)_
> 
> _But the wait makes me uneasy – I kick the fragility away_
> 
> _And shout – I have to go - help_
> 
> _I explode out and the peace is gone_
> 
> _Bathed in new light_
> 
> _I cry and I cry - disconnected_
> 
> _A ruined brain is put on breasts_
> 
> _And is fed by sleep_


End file.
